The Life and Times of Rebecca Llyweilun
by NightyNightUK
Summary: Rebecca was just an average girl living in London until one day when she woke up in a magical land filled with adventure. Rebecca must overcome her own cultural ignorance in order to survive this land teaming with war. Lancelot romance. R
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I have no rights to the movie King Arthur however you cannot take my king from me.

A/N: Fans of the movie please do not get too mad at me for some of the radical changes I have made. Most of this story is faithful to the feel and energy of the movie just simply set around the real events. Now obviously to make this an actual fanfic and not simply my own story of King Arthur I have had to change some things in the history to make them fit. But I tried to keep everything as accurate as possible. I do however use the knight's names from the movie instead of the real names which were changed when Le Morte d'Arthur was written in 1485. For a more accurate list, which I would have rather used, you need to read Geoffrey of Monmouth's History of the Kings of Britain circa the early twelfth century. Now the people of Britain may argue the credibility of this work. However as I was raised in a Welsh household I was taught that Geoffrey was one of the few people ever allow to read from Merlin's own diaries stored on the Isle of Man. Now as you must have already noticed this author's note is getting very long so I will not keep you any longer. This first chapter is only a prequel and a window into the main character before the real meat of the story begins.

_The Life and Times of Rebecca Joanne Llyweilun of Snowdonia_

Life in London is a mess of rejection and social abandonment if you're Welsh. Even for a girl like me who can't speak a word of Cymraeg to save her life. (Oh, that is its own word isn't it.) Everyone I meet looks at me strange because my complexion is different and my nose and chin are longer than most Englishmen. I'm taller too with much darker hair. There aren't many Londoners walking around at six foot. Is it really my fault that my ancestors liked living in the mountains where you had to be really tall just to see over the hill. For this reason I liked to stay to myself. I watch a lot of movies but only when they were out of the cinema. I hated going to the cinema because I was always surrounded by happy couples more engrossed in their own lives than actually watching the film. I had never been overly proud of my heritage but I remembered growing up and watching all the movies about King Arthur. My dad would tell me the story about how Arthur had been sent by his father from France to defend the Welsh people against the Saxon invaders. Arthur had even married a Welsh woman and became a tribal king in Wales. I loved watching every King Arthur movie I could find. I was obsessed. Imagine my excitement when I learned that they were making a new King Arthur movie and this one was going to be based on the actual historical account. Needless to say I was very disappointed. Hell I was outraged. Like I said I have never been very outgoing about my heritage but this was different. This struck something deep, to the very heart of my being. I later realized that the director hadn't even tried to find out the true story of King Arthur he based his entire movie on one name. Some historian in Scotland had found that a roman soldier named Artorius was involved in a major battle at Hadrian's Wall three centuries before Arthur. I was so upset that I began sending angry letters to the studio. I even set up a Welsh club on campus to promote awareness of Welsh culture.

This brings us to the heart of my little adventure. Most people that read this will have no idea what I am talking about, at least for the next fifteen hundred years that is. You see I used to be an average college student living out my life with no expectations. That was until I ended up becoming my own Connecticut Yankee. Nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen not that I would have believed it anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Ok sorry the prologue was so short and the authors note was so long. I had a lot to say before I got to the actual story itself. I do not speak French so if anyone would like to beta this so that I get the language right I would much appreciate it. As Rebecca learns a language I will depict the conversations in English with hints at which she is using. Oh and please review.

_The Fourteenth Day of December in the Year of Our Lord, Four Hundred and Ninety Six_

I woke this morning to the cold hard touch of earth beneath me. I stirred looking about to find myself lying out in the middle of a large field. A yew tree hung overhead giving me some protection form the midday's sun. I heard the sound of hooves galloping close by and soon the horse and its rider came into view. I was startled at the sight of a man wearing chain mail. The only logical conclusion I could make was that I had stumbled into some sort of re-enactment. Surprisingly the man bore a strong resemblance to Ioan Gruffudd. I had been rather trashed the night before. A friend had invited me to a party in Edinburgh and I had attempted to drive myself home. When he came near I tried to ask for directions.

'Can you tell me where the main road is mate?' I stated expecting for him to understand. Unfortunately I was not so lucky.

'Pardon?' He replied. _Great_, I thought, I happen to run into the only Frenchman in Britain. Fat lot of good he was going to do me. I never could pass French in primary.

'So you can't understand I word I am saying huh?' I iterated just for my own sake.

'Woad?' He asked pointing at me with a strange look on his face. I recognized the word as a name given to Welsh insurgents into Roman land during the occupation. He must have thought I was part of the re-enactment. God the French are dense. I nodded my head hoping that he would help me out if I just played along. His face fell grim as if he was trying to make a tough decision. That was when I heard the sound of at least a hundred hooves galloping toward us. He looked back at me and shrugged his shoulders. 'C'est la vie'. He said. With a quick motion he urged his horse forward. He quickly grabbed me up off the ground and rode off with me in his arms. As well as he could at least. In the end I had to throw my arms around his neck to keep from falling off. We rode for what felt like an hour before we reached a massive wall. No where in my recollection did I remember an attempt the rebuild the Antonin Wall and for that matter how did I end up that far north of Edinburgh. I noticed two men dressed in steel armour guarding a large gate in the wall. This was getting far too weird for me. I tried pinching myself hoping that I was just dreaming all of this. I wasn't however. The man who had apparently saved me spoke a few words of French to the guards and they opened the gates for us. As soon as we were through my saviour took off heading south. I was amazed at the massive plain before us. The sight of green lush hills stretched out as far as the eye could see. By nightfall we had travelled far enough that we could no longer see the wall. After helping me off the horse my own knight in somewhat shining armour began to set a fire. I wasn't happy at the prospect of travelling with a strange man but knew that there was nothing I could do about it. To my own credit I seemed to be taking the news that I was in ancient England pretty well but then I was probably still in denial. Deciding that I might as well be friendly I sat down next to my companion. He seemed to be put off by this for a moment before finally relaxing.

'Rebecca'. I said pointing to my face. I tried to smile as broadly as possible to make sure he knew I wasn't a threat. He seemed to loosen up a bit and smiled himself.

'Lancelot' He said holding out his hand.

I was totally lost in his words. This was Lancelot, the Lancelot. Absently I put my hand in his still transfixed by my own fate. The felling of his soft lips on my knuckles brought me back to reality. I looked at him in confusion and then realized that he had kissed my hand. I blushed turning my head away. Why do the French have to be so damned forward?

'Excuse-moi' He said releasing my hand.

'No excuse, no' I said shaking my head. I may be a social introvert but I am by no means stupid. The look on his face was priceless. I must admit that I thought this was a dream. Who was I to pass up a steamy dream with an Ioan Gruffudd look alike? He looked me in the eyes for what seemed like an eternity before placing a small kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes at the contact and felt shivers run up and down my spine. In an instant the contact was gone. I opened my eyes to see him lying down on the ground. I was outraged, how dare my dream refuse to have sex with me. Feeling slighted I laid down and was quickly asleep.

_The Fifteenth Day of December in the Year of Our Lord, Four Hundred and Ninety Six_

I woke the next morning to the smell of fat frying. I thought for a second that my flat mate Lindsay must have been making sausage. Letting myself nap I remembered the events of my dream and how perfect Ioan Gruffudd had looked. At least until I was pulled out of my dream by a hard boot to the back.

'Mademoiselle' He said softly. I turned around to find the dark haired man standing over me with an iron skillet in one hand. 'Heure du déjeuner'

'Oui Monsieur' I said trying to sound like nothing was wrong. It hit me that all of this had to be real but I wasn't sure how.

He seemed comforted by my use of French, to bad for him that I had just exhausted my French vocabulary. He handed me a small wooden dish from his saddle bag and dumped several pieces of meat from the pan. Too hungry to care what I was eating I devoured it. It was white meat so I assumed it was some type of pheasant. After breakfasting Lancelot made up the saddle of his horse and spread the blanket out from underneath so that I could ride behind him. Once everything was ready he helped me up onto the horse. We set off heading farther south. Lancelot did not say a word the entire day's ride. I figured the only way to get to understand him was to learn his language. When we set up camp that night I sought out to do just that.

We were both sitting by the small fire when I made my move. Tapping him on the shoulder I gestured toward my mouth and began moving my hands indicating that I wanted him to speak. After a few moments of looking at me like I was crazy he finally got the idea.

A half hour later I sat listening and watching him try to explain what he was talking about. His arm and body movements reminded me of Eddie Izzard on stage. I laughed at several odd expressions he had made and got a chuckle from him in return. I tried to respond using some of the same phrases he had used but only managed to make him laugh at me. After another hour be both fell asleep from laughing too hard.

_The Twentieth Day of December in the Year of Our Lord, Four Hundred and Ninety Six_

Nearly a week had passed since I had met the jester knight Lancelot and in the time I had become nearly fluent in French. After that second night Lancelot started opening up to me. I got to see a side of him that quite frankly surprised me. The man was quite the prankster. We laughed nearly no stop the whole week. I noticed a noticeable change in our pace. Lancelot no longer seemed rushed to get wherever it was we were going. That morning I asked him where we were headed and his head seemed to drop. After a moment he lifted his head and pointed south.

'Hadrian's Wall' He said. He looked up into the sky and said something that I didn't quite understand. 'We need to make it back to the wall in the next few days.'

'What is at the wall that is so important?' I asked trying to remember anything that happened at the historic frontier.

'Arthur.' He stated simply. I understood completely. This man was supposed to be Arthur's greatest friend. 'The eve of Christmas marks the baptism of the new king of Briton.'

'I take it Arthur isn't the one being crowned king.' I replied noting the sting in his eyes.

'He doesn't like to talk about it but Arthur would have rather stayed in Briton when his brothers where sent off to defend this place.' There was and edge to Lancelot that I had not yet seen. 'He blames himself for his father Uther's death.'

Lancelot stayed silent for a second his face to the south wind. 'I need to make sure you can defend yourself before we reach Camelot.'

'I can defend myself alright.' I said squaring my shoulders. I wasn't really lying; I had been a champion fencer in prep school. Not that a flimsy blade was any match for a broad sward.

'We will just have to see about that won't we?' He mocked as his smile returned. He went to his horse and pulled out two long swords. Handing me one I tried to spare with him but only managed to get a firm slap on the arse from the flat of his sword. Quickly returning his banter I caught him off guard landing a solid hit to his leg. Not that I had put any force behind it. It didn't take long before I had learned to adapt what I knew into something more useful. After sparring for most of the morning we set out to cover as much land as we could before going to sleep. As I sat awake that night I couldn't help reflect on the past week. I went to sleep wishing that it would never end.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here goes the next chapter hope you all enjoy. Things should start to pick up after this chapter as more and more of Arthur's knights are introduced. And don't forget to review. There is no better muse than hearing either praise or admonishment.

_The Twenty Second Day of December in the Year of Our Lord, Four Hundred and Ninety Six_

Lancelot and I woke early. As the sun rose into the sky its amber rays reflected off the edge of Hadrian's Wall. The wall hadn't been visible the night before but now the long barrier was clear as day.

'I take it you have not before seen the wall.' He said noticing my astonishment.

'No I haven't at lest not like this.' I said still not taking my eyes of the erection.

'I have been curious about something ever since we met.' He said as be began packing his horse. 'How is it that a young Welsh woman found herself completely unspoiled in the middle of Pict land?'

'Unspoiled?' I said giving him a quizzical look.

'That is to say you do not look or act like a Pict slave.' He said attempting to be gentlemanly about it. But I caught his meaning alright.

'I can't explain how I ended up there. The last thing I remember was leaving a party and then waking up under that tree.' I said as we both mounted his horse.

'Curious very curious, No need worrying about it now. You will be back among your people shortly.' He said giving me another grin.

'My people, what do you mean?' I asked. I couldn't go to Wales. I couldn't even speak the language.

'The baptism of our new king Clovis is being held on Avalon.' He said pointing west. 'We'll take the fairy across the sea to the isle.'

'You don't seem happy.' I noted, his face speaking volumes.

'You are a very perceptive woman.' He sighed with a sarcastic air. 'But no I am not happy at all. Clovis is having three thousand of his troops from Normandy baptized with him. The holy isle will be teaming with brutish barbarians who care less about the sanctity of god than they do raping and pillaging.' The idea clearly upset him deeply.

'Yeah well what are you going to do about it?' I said understanding the pressure of the time period. Barbarians and Vikings reigned all throughout the lands of Europe. Wales was the last bastion of Christianity in the far flung wilds of Britain. It hit me that I was in a lot of trouble stranded here in ancient Britain. The glorious days of Arthur and Camelot would not be for years to come. I was trapped in a land full of war and chaos where even the legends of old were unsure of where their lives would lead.

I could not find the right words to convey my sorrow for the man. Instead I wrapped my arms around his chest and nuzzled my head into his back. I could feel the tension release from his body as he breathed in deep.

'Now what on earth brought this on?' He chuckled grasping one of my hands with his.

'I have to confess something to you.' I said simply breathing in his scent.

'I am no priest nor do I want to be.' He laughed giving my hand a small squeeze.

'And the world is better for it I am sure.' I said letting myself smile briefly.

'First you wish to confess to me and then you strike my honour. Oh dear you are a foul beast.' He said laughing jovially.

Lancelot was a rare man. He could let his wit run wild yet still hold your gaze as if there was never a more serious and loving man on the earth. I would be the first to admit that my flirtations the week prior were simply acts to cover up my own denial. However in that moment I knew that I would love no other man.

The rest of that day was spent with joyous laughter. Lancelot seemed to be able to tell how my affections for him had changed. His hand hardly once left contact with mine and even when we stopped for midday's lunch he kept his arm wrapped around me. He held me close as if afraid I would run away. By that evening we had crossed over the dell and down into a small stream which broadened to become a cove. Looking out across the horizon I could just make out the outline of Ireland. Yet even clearer was the Isle of Man. I had guessed that the isle must have been what Lancelot had refereed to as Avalon. It seemed fitting enough. After all, the isle was where Merlin had lived, where he and his wife the Lady of the Lake had built there home. It was said that Merlin had build the first university in Wales and that young men and women from all over the known world had travelled to his little island to learn. I wasn't sure when exactly Merlin had been at his height; though I felt safe to assume that with Arthur not yet king this was surely not it.

As we neared the shore of the cove I spotted a small raft. A post had been stuck into the ground with a heavy piece of tied around it. The rope seemed to stretch clear across the water. Lancelot guided his horse onto the raft and then disembarked. After a quick push off we made our way across the large body of water. Lancelot paced the fairy back and forth as he guided the small craft along the rope guide.

'What was it that you said earlier about confession?' He asked trying to start up conversation.

'Yes I have been meaning to tell you.' I said in hesitation. This was going to complicate thing I was sure. 'I haven't been to Wales in a long time.'

'Ah finally we start to see the truth.' He replied his trademark grin quickly spreading across his face.

'I wasn't lying to you when I told you I didn't know how I ended up north of the wall.' I said reaffirming the truth before continuing. 'Needles to say it has been so long since I've been to Wales I cant even remember that language.'

He didn't say anything for a while. Instead he thought over what I sad very carefully. 'This does not bode well.' He said after a time. 'Explaining how I found you would have been simpler if I could have told everyone that I had rescued you from the Picts.' He said returning to his thoughts. 'Only Arthur knows where I was. Suppose I tell the other generals that you're from my village in the south of France. We are in for a long war it's not unreasonable that I would want my betrothed close to me.'

I couldn't help laughing at the situation. 'Would you feel comfortable acting like my fiancé when we've only known each other for a week's time?'

He continued to smile as he paced. 'And you would be?' He feigned surprise placing the back of his hand to his forehead. 'My you're a fast woman.'

'You have no idea.' I said mockingly swatting at his arm.

'But I do hope to learn.' He replied his voice becoming much lower as he eyed me mischievously.

I sauntered over to him placing my face within scant centimetres of his own. 'Do you now?' I breathed.

'You do present a tempting package.' He said into my ear. Threading my fingers through his hair I placed a slow hard kiss to his earlobe. 'I hate to break the mood but we have arrived.'

I looked over my shoulder and sure enough not but a few dozen yards away was the dock. A short bald man stood upon the dock hooting loudly into the air.

'What have you gone and done this time, eh Lancelot.' The man hollered. 'You were only supposed to be scouting not wooing young women.'

'You should be one to talk Bors.' Lancelot shouted back. 'You spend all your time trying to bed that woman of yours.' Lancelot laughed. 'Not that it's a hard task, how many kids do have now thirteen?'

'It's eleven for your information and at least I have a steady woman. How long do you think this one will last, a week.' The stout man taunted.

I instantly liked the man. Any man that could keep up with Lancelot deserved respect. As we neared the dock Bors helped us steady the raft as we led the horse to solid ground. Once we were on land Lancelot threw his arms around his fellow knight. They both laughed heartily as they began reminiscing.

'It has been too long Lancelot. How long does it take to scout the lines anyway?' Bors laughed punching his friend in the arm. 'And you still haven't told me what the deal with the woman is.'

Lancelot smiled broadly as he threw his arm around my shoulders. 'This Bors just happens to be my betrothed from Briton.'

Grabbing his hand I quickly and forcefully threw it from my shoulders. 'I don't think so.' I said walking over and mounting his horse. 'I am no man second fiddle.' I said before trotting off

As I left the two behind me I could hear Bors laugh. 'I like her already Lancelot.'


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey Gruffudd fans, sorry about the delay. I had to sit down and do alot of research on the lady of the lake and Merlin to make sure that this was as accurate as possible.Read and Review please

_The Twenty Fourth Day of December in the Year of Our Lord, Four Hundred and Ninety Six_

I was awoken this morning by a gentle hand. 'How do you fair my lady.'

I looked up into the soft eyes of a young lady. Light brown hair hung about her shoulders. The French words surprised me. None of the people I had met the day before had spoken a word of French. Looking into her eyes I was perplexed.

'You speak French?' I asked still shocked.

'Of course medimuoisle.' She said with a smile. 'Did you honestly think we would entrust the great Lancelot's betrothed to a Welsh maid.'

I was offended by the remark but let it pass. I had a feeling that I was going to have to put up with a lot of things like that.

'I have brought you a change of clothing.' She said pointing to the dress hung at the end of the bed. 'Merlin confiscated your other attire. For some reason he found it quite interesting.' She gave me a quick smile. 'He has not been occupied by the Romans as we have. He doesn't understand how branched we have become. We all assumed your clothing to be Phoenician or Corinthian.'

'Yes well there is a variety of peoples in southern France.' I said trying to remember back to my school days. If I remembered correctly the land of southern France had been divided after Hannebel's defeat and the subsequent roman conquest of the area. Though I had no idea when that took place. 'What is your name?'

'I am Joelle.' She said with a small curtsy. 'King Clovis has put me in your direct employ as a token of his esteem.'

I couldn't help but laugh which seemed to puzzle the young girl. 'I apologize I shouldn't laugh at our king.' Joelle seemed at odds briefly before giggling herself. 'Something you will come find very quickly is I do not bid my tongue regardless the subject.'

'Yes well he is quite the mindless barbarian isn't he.' She admitted once her fit of giggles had subsided. As quick as the smile and light manner had come it was gone. 'Now we must make you presentable if you are to attend to baptism this evening.'

'All right I suppose if we must we must.' I said wryly as I got out of bed and let the maid cloth me. 'I must speak with Merlin this morning.' I said while the girl was lacing up the dress. 'Also I need one of the local black smiths to make me a blade preferably Welsh steal.'

'Why does my lady need a sword.' She said fussing over my hair. 'Much less consort with that pagan.'

That was that. 'Listen to me Joelle, I am going to tell you this one thing and you may never utter a word of it to anyone.' The poor maid had been driven to shock. She stood and stared at me as if I had grown a third breast. 'I am not from the south of France.' I said simply letting the small revelation settle. 'I am in fact from Wales though my mother is French. With that said I am not proficient in the Welsh language as I have not set foot in Wales for years.'

She seemed to take the news rather well seeing as she did not run from the room screaming. 'I see, my word what Clovis would do if he found out.' She softly mumbled. Pacing the room I could practically see the gears working in her head. 'Well then we have that much more in common.' She said smiling simply. 'Yes we must hide this from the king if he were to learn the truth you would be publicly dishonored and Lancelot would not be able to marry you.' She stated as the gears kept going. 'If this were to happen Lancelot would surely rise up against the king and all of Arthur and Merlin's men would follow him.' She stopped and looked at me closely. 'We must alert the Queen at once.'

With that she grabbed my hand and rushed from the room. I had never seen such a small girl in such a fuss. once out side my room I noted the beautiful architecture of the castle courtyard. There were people everywhere speaking in Welsh and pouring over scrolls and books. 'Where are we Joelle?' I Wondered fascinated by the scholars both young and old who were debating back and forth.

'This is Merlin's castle and the dwelling place of the lady of the lake.' She said shortly keeping her focus forward. Moments later we had passed through many doors and passageways until we had finally reached a high tower. The room we stood in was round with a thin stair case leading to a domed room above us. The room we stood in was full of books and charts. Standing among them was a tall thin woman of graceful proportions when her eyes turned to me I felt transfixed in their beauty.

'Who have you brought to me this morning Joelle.' The Lady wondered indicating me with a thin finger.

'My Lady.' Joelle said with a bow. 'I present to you Lady-'

'Rebecca Joanne Llyweilun of Snowdonia.' I interjected bowing to the lady.

'Ah a Welsh girl with a French tongue.' She said abandoning her maps. 'I saw you arrive yesterday with Young Lancelot.' She inspected my face as if the secrets of my life where held within. 'You find yourself lost among your own people.' Shocked I could only nod in reply. 'How interesting, come follow me.' She said walking up the stair to the domed room. Upon entering I saw a large opening in the ceiling and directly underneath the opening was a large pool of water. The lady busied herself among star charts until finding the one she was looking for. 'Years ago I went to Rome to argue the relevancy of the Christian holidays with those of Welsh tradition. I Knew full well that the Christ child had not been born on or near the winter equinox. Nor had he died during the Greek fertility festival. Near as I can tell Christ was born closer to the Welsh holiday of all holy dead. And had actually died closer to the equinox. I had tried to use this as an argument that the day of all holy dead should be allowed to be practiced as a holy day.' She ranted as she dug around for a compass. 'This past month the stars have been aligned in a way that has not occurred for nearly five hundred years. I hazard to guess that it would not occur for another fifteen hundred if my calculations are correct.' She said indicating the old star chart and then the one that had just recently been drawn. 'My husband has been spending all of his time of late in prayer and mediation. Yesterday I found him out in the courtyard mumbling in a very old dialect. He kept saying that a vision of the future was coming and that god deliver would us from the Frank occupation.' She looked at me sternly. 'Your arrival drove him into a panic. He swears that god has delivered you to us and that it is your voice that will unite the tribes.' The lady began wringing her wrists and muttering in Welsh. 'I only hope that your presence does not cause him to do something rash.'

'By rash what exactly do you mean?' I wondered.

'I found him this morning polishing his battle-ax.' The lady said simply.

'Oh dear.' I was overcome. Nothing could have prepared me for this. What if we went to war? More than a week ago I was just a shop clerk worried about feeding my cat. Oh god my cat what if my flat mate hadn't fed her? Now I was supposed to settle some sort of dispute between the Welsh tribes. They had the wrong Londoner that was for sure. I bare recognized the Lady of the lake kneeling before me until I felt her hand on my face.

'Don't fret young one. Everything will work out the way god intends it.' She said with a bright smile upon her face. 'You look tired still from your journey. Joelle will bring you a set of more traditionally appropriate clothing.' I chuckled at this. The dress wasn't me that was sure.

'What about the king?' I wondered thinking about what Joelle had told me.

'We will keep you here for now. Joelle will tell the king that you have fallen ill and must stay here in the castle.' She nodded as if she was trying to convince herself it would work.

As if on que Joelle helped me up and led me back to the room. sleep came slowly that night as I reflected on the events of the day.


End file.
